


Drunk in Love and Wine

by littymcgritty



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Happy Ending, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Light Angst, One Shot, Post-War, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:22:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24221239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littymcgritty/pseuds/littymcgritty
Summary: It had reached past the point of being fun drunk at 2 am and now it was 4 am and she was moping and missing her ex type of drunk.In which Draco and Hermione learn they need to have better communication.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 16
Kudos: 130





	Drunk in Love and Wine

Hermione had never really been one to like to get black out drunk and had to be escorted home by her friends type of person. She liked being in control of her actions, being aware, remembering. Even after the war, when she had time to become a real teenager and do all of those adolescent things like everyone else, she took pride in not _needing alcohol to have still have fun_ and _well someone has to take care of you lot wasted_ being said with an affectionate smile. And that was mostly true anyways. She always felt obligated to make sure everyone would be okay and alive, that had been her role since first year. She was responsible, she was the group mom, that’s who she was. 

She took care of Ron when he was pissed but that was okay because she loved him and she found it adorable how he needed her, until she didn’t anymore. Until it became bothersome and just another thing for her to carry on her shoulders and she was done with it the fifth time she had been called into St. Mungo’s to collect him after a night of too much fun. They had broken up later that month and someone else took care of him drunk. She had one less thing to worry about when it was one in the morning and she didn’t have to worry about getting an owl telling her to come get her boyfriend because he had thought he was strong enough to punch through the stone wall outside of the bar and needed three spells and a vial of Skele-Gro to heal his hand.

And then she met Draco Malfoy over dinner one night to discuss some law concerning the obtaining and use of unicorn hair in potions or something of the like. It was a cute posh French restaurant of his choosing and she had one glass of wine with her food because _That’s what you’re supposed to do with French food, for Merlin’s sake_ , and somehow one glass had turned into three and she forgot this was a business dinner and apparently he did too. Conversation was good, arguably better with their loosened lips and relaxed shoulders, courtesy of the alcohol. He settled the tab like it was a date when it was supposed to be a business meeting and bought the rest of the bottle and they walked to the apparation stop at the end of the corner with her hand in the nook of his elbow excusing it for the tippiness of her wine consumption. Some lie rolled off her tippy tongue about needing help to apparate back to her flat and she wasn’t exactly sure why but he smiled and obliged her. 

They ended up finishing the bottle of wine, sat on the couch talking for hours while her telly ran in the background and she could remember how amazed it was by it and at some point between midnight and dawn, she had fallen asleep sitting up with her head snuggled in his shoulder, her arms wrapped carefully around one of his. She woke a little later than her usual 7 am sharp, carefully laid down with a pillow supporting her neck with her couch throw blanket gently tucked over her and a cup of tea with a stasis charm to keep it warm and a Sober-up and a note. _You didn’t seem too out of it last night, but I thought I’d leave you one anyways just in case. I had a lot of fun, maybe we can do it again sometime. Next weekend? -DM_ , it read in perfectly sloping almost cursive. It made her smile. That had been one of the first times someone else took care of her, as she was usually on the care giving side. Sure, she was fine and didn’t even really have a hangover and she remembered nearly every detail of their conversations and his laugh that erupted when she made an unexpected joke. She didn’t need someone to take care of her but it was definitely nice.

Next weekend’s dinner had officially turned into a date when she said she could cook and he brought a bottle of wine and a bouquet of daisies and she felt it right to adjust her wards to let him in. He walked in, to her with flour on her forehead from attempting to roll out fresh pasta by hand, with no magic at all, her fluff ball of a cat strolling around her feet, as if it was protecting her. She looked up quite embarrassed, noting that she had lost track of time but he was still fifteen minutes early. _Leave it to Draco Malfoy to be early for a dinner date at home when usually people don’t show up until thirty minutes past the agreed time_ , she remarked. _Of course, I can manage myself quite, well, Granger_ , he replied casually, set the wine down and rolled up his sleeves. _How do you want me to help?_ , he asks. They spent the better part of an hour making all sorts of unique shapes, entertaining each other with made up stories for the pasta pictures and even more of ones from their lives. 

Two dates later she leaned in and kissed him, because she wanted to but also because her two glasses of wine in confidence allowed her to. She became his girlfriend of eight months and she eventually learned that Draco Malfoy always handled himself well, with or without alcohol and extended to take care of her as well, also drunk or not. 

So then, why was Hermione Granger sitting on her kitchen floor at three-thirty in the morning, on her fifth glass of pinot, mindlessly stroking her fluffy orange cat who was fast asleep, with dried tears and bleeding mascara streaked on her face? It had reached past the point of being fun drunk at 2 am and now it was 4 am and she was moping and missing her ex type of drunk.

She had known before everything, even before their first dinner together that he was meant to be wed off to some other girl of his parents’ choosing, that he wasn’t meant to be hers. It was an unspoken agreement that the topic of marriage, or lack thereof, was strategically ignored. Their weekend dates in Rome, stolen kisses in the elevator after parting from lunch, movie nights as they fell asleep snuggled on her periwinkle couch, all done, pointedly ignoring the looming question. He wasn’t hers to keep forever, she had known from the beginning. He was just supposed to be some fun summer fling, she was in her early twenties, and that was okay for people in their early twenties. 

Yet, why had it hurt her so much to hear yet another one of her friends had gotten engaged over the weekend, and feeling like her time was ticking? Sure, she had barely just turned twenty four, but in the wizarding world so many couples married right after the war, with jobs already lined up and a plan. She wanted Draco to be a part of her plan, but he couldn’t, so earlier that week, she sent a owl, three simple words, _Let’s stop this. -Hermione Granger_ , signed with her full name to hopefully signal a formality with him, they were strangers again, not whatever wine-drinking-fun-conversation-having relationship they had. She assumed he knew what she meant. He seemed to know too, he wasn’t hers. Not for forever. Some other woman in his plan that was going to wear his ring and take his name and have his children, not her. 

He hadn’t approached her all week, no more lunch office visits, sitting at least four seats away from her at department meetings. It had upset her a little that she only got back three words, _Okay, I understand_., no signature, no heart, the only indication it was from him being the little loop in his y’s that she had gotten so used to, delivered by the beautiful auburn owl that had brought her lunches on the days she was too busy and date invitations and weekend getaway plans. 

She shifted to lean against her kitchen island, reaching for her mobile and started to scroll through her social media that she had ended up getting to keep in contact with her parents and the rest of her family who were confused as to why she didn’t immediately jump onto Instagram as soon as she could. The first photo was of her cousin’s first born, and the following was Ginny’s of her and Harry’s upcoming second anniversary. She shut her phone off and slowly stood, gripping the counter to help her up with intention of migrating to the couch, but a distinct _Pop_! of apparation outside her front door caught her attention. 3:40 her microwave clock read, and without a second thought she had propped her front door open and found no one else other than Draco standing on her front lawn, looking utterly confused.

“Dra-,” she quickly corrected herself, “Malfoy?” she called out. 

He turned around a little too fast and stumbled but caught himself, the shadows of a smile in his eyes. He was tipsy, just enough. “Granger! Hello! What am I doing here?” He glanced around as if he was surprised. “I was thinking about home.” He added. 

“Oh. This isn’t your home.” Hermione blatantly stated, only half processed the meaning of the words with her five glasses of wine in clarity.

“I guess not.” He fully looked at her now. “I can’t believe how much I missed you last week.” He almost whispered, but just enough for her to hear, then immediately clamping his mouth shut, wide eyed, the alcohol letting his thoughts slip through. 

“What?” She stood in her doorway, somewhat speechless but mostly just trying to control herself from running into his arms and holding him forever. 

“Nothing, disregard that. Sorry to bother you, I’ll get going now, I-,” he lifted his wand arm, to prepare to pop off.

“Wait! Maybe you should come in and wait a little for your head to clear up!” she cut him off, telling herself she was only looking out for him so he didn’t splinch himself while apparating with only half a mind. 

“No, it’s okay, I can manage,” accompanied by that annoyingly attractive smirk.

“No, I insist.”

“Are you sure?” He was already slowly taking steps towards her before she uttered her answer. 

“I’m sure,” she asserted, even though she was fairly certain he was perfectly capable of getting home safely. She knew he was still mostly aware, never getting too drunk like she also preferred. 

She went in first and held the door for him, Draco brushed by her and she had to clench her fists to avoid reaching out and touching his arm. She closed the door and locked it and he stood there, awkwardly as if this was his first time visiting and not at least the hundredth time he’s simply strolled into her flat and plopped himself on one of the barstools at the kitchen island. 

“Uh, would you like a cup of tea or some Sober-Up or something?” She said as she walked towards her kitchen, him following slowly at a moderate distance behind her, like a normal guest would. But what would you call a guest who was an ex you broke up with in three short words, yet you were still in love with them? Definitely not a normal guest. 

“Just some water, please.” He answered, delicately perching on the chair that he had unintentionally claimed as his over the few months they’ve been together. Hermione placed a glass of water in front of him, moving the half full glass of wine onto the other counter. He glanced at it but didn’t comment, knowing she was also mildly drunk. She started to put the kettle on for tea, mindlessly filling it enough for two, the island separating them. 

“How have you been?” She cursed herself for the polite small talk she used, as if she was catching up with any other old friend. 

He looked up, mildly shocked, his head slightly tilted to the right and his eyebrows scrunching up a little in the way she always found cute, “I was pretty good until the witch I love decided to break it off with me at the beginning of the week. With a short and straightforward owl, too. I can’t really blame her though, we both know how fucked up my family can get.” He half joked with a dry huff as he sipped his water and fiddled his thumbs behind the glass. 

“I-,” she started, interrupted by the screeching of the kettle. She turned around and flicked the stove off. She didn’t even know what she was about to say, but was interrupted once again, this time by the blond man sitting at her island. 

“No, you don’t have to apologize, I understand, really. Thank you for giving me a chance at all. I know I don’t have the best track record, but these past eight months have truly been amazing. I've been so incredibly happy,” he looks at her with a sad smile, “But you deserve someone better than me and that’s okay. I don’t want to hold you back.” His tone was somber, defeated. 

“I don’t think there’s anyone better than you, Draco,” she commented gently, momentarily forgetting he wasn’t hers to comfort anymore. 

He stared at her with a curious expression, “Wait, what?” The words were so soft she thought she imagined it. 

They were both befuddled at this point. “You were too good to me, Draco. Especially when you’re promised to someone else.”

“Hermione, hold up. You broke it off because you thought I was too good to you?” The kettle behind them had gone lukewarm, they were fully facing each other now.

“I...I couldn’t keep living in some fantasy. You’re amazing and you make me laugh and you take care of me. I could imagine myself marrying you and it hurt so much to think that you were going to be someone else’s husband one day. I wanted to look out for myself.” She quietly confessed, her arms wrapping around her torso to comfort herself. 

He let out a soft laugh and she glared at him, arms now crossed over her chest defensively. “Yeah, okay, laugh at my pain, why don’t you.” She spat, hurt, and turned around to pour her lukewarm water over the tea. 

He slipped off his chair and made his way to the other side of the island, stood by her side and slowly reached for her hand, “Hermione, I would marry you tomorrow, as soon as the ministry opened up, if you wanted. I thought you had finally gotten tired of me and my burdens.”

"You’re far from a burden. But that doesn’t matter. Besides, aren't you meant to marry some pureblood witch to be the perfectly bred wife and give you perfect little babies?" It took the rest of the wine confidence she had left to look into his eyes. 

"Where did you hear that?" A small smile played on his lips now, as he pivoted her body to reach for her other hand. 

"Everyone talks about it."

"They're just rumors, love. Besides, it doesn't matter anyways. I could give less of a flying fuck what my parents wanted me to do." His hands were around her waist now, and she surprised herself by letting them rest there. 

"Oh." Her arms drifted to rest on top of his. He took this opportunity to pull her into a tight hug, burying his face in the crook of her neck as she stood with her chin over his shoulder. 

"Why didn't you ever ask me about it?"

She slightly shrugged, her lips forming into a small pout, "I thought we had a mutual agreement." 

He laughed, “Well, the last time I checked, an agreement meant both parties were aware of the terms.” Her only response was to hold him tighter. 

“Did you really think you weren’t good enough for me?” Hermione asked after a moment. 

“Of course, you’re Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age, youngest head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, the most captivating, intelligent, remarkable woman I’ve ever known. And I’m over here with what? My ex-Death Eater reputation?”

She blushed with his praise and assured him, “You know none of that matters to me anymore, right? All of us are still human. You were still so young. And you’ve already made your amends with it.”

“I know now. You know that you’re not the only one looking out for you, right? I want to take care of you, too. Even if you don’t need it.”

“I know.” Her smile said it all. She leaned in to give him a gentle peck. “I’m glad you showed up at,” she glanced at her microwave again, “four in the morning.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” They both stayed silent for a good while, the only sounds were their hands rubbing down each other's backs gently. Hermione thanked the little bit of wine that had kept her up and let him in, fifteen minutes ago into her flat and eight months ago into her life. 

"Did you really think of me when you thought of home?" She murmured against his neck.

"No, I knew it was you when I thought of home."

**Author's Note:**

> hello! this was my first time writing a dramione fic, after years of popping in and out and consuming probably an unhealthy amount of content. please let me know how i can improve if you have time, and i hope you enjoyed!  
> you can find me on tumblr [@littymcgrittywrites](https://littymcgrittywrites.tumblr.com/), as well as the little [ aesthetics photoset](https://littymcgrittywrites.tumblr.com/post/618311530454401024/drunk-in-love-and-wine-by-littymcgrittywrites) i put together for this one shot!


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